


fly me to the moon (let me play among the stars)

by Suituuup



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Dancing, F/F, Rock and Roll, Romance, Set in the sixties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 21:58:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17795489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suituuup/pseuds/Suituuup
Summary: Rockabilly and milkshake Bechloe 60's AU.Chloe lets her eyes run over the worn-out leather jacket slightly too big on her shoulders, her cotton white tee, Levi's jeans and black Chuck Taylor's tops. Her first thought is that the girl comes across as confident, like she belongs here.





	fly me to the moon (let me play among the stars)

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to @acabellas whose playlist for her fic atom bomb baby (https://archiveofourown.org/works/17302835/chapters/40697345) inspired me to write this 60′s Bechloe story :)
> 
> Playlist for this fic (song order by order of appearance in the fic): https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1PhOtp7oQhVxPJpBUk9vwv
> 
> I don't know how to HTML this shit, sorry about the long links!

“Here ya go, sugar.”

Cerulean eyes fall onto the sidecar slid in front of them and flicker up to find twinkling brown ones. Giving their owner a strained smile in thanks, Chloe raises the glass to her red-painted lips and takes a sip.

Dishtowel draped over his shoulder, Tom leans across the counter, bracing his weight on his forearms, and wiggles his eyebrows up at her.

She catches a whiff of his expensive cologne, blended with the smell of the excessive amount of wax he applies to his hair every five minutes, and attempts not to grimace.

Tom is one of popular boys in town. His parents are insanely rich, so Tom has a lot of money without having to lift a finger. Unfortunately, that and his looks are about all he has; he's not particularly clever or caring.

“How 'bout that next dance?”

Chloe chuckles, raising a delicate eyebrow. “I'll think about it.”

Tom seems to like that answer, and is about to reply, but much to Chloe's relief, a customer flags him down from the opposite side of the bar. She sighs, an invisible weight vanishing from her shoulders once Tom's eyes are no longer boring into her.

“How long are you going to play this game?” Chloe snaps her eyes to Aubrey and shrugs. The blonde gives her a condescending look. “You're giving the poor man false hopes. He's going to be heartbroken when you tell him you're not interested.”

Chloe snickers, jerking her chin towards where Tom stands, already engaged in a flirt with a brunette by the end of the bar. “I'm sure he'll fall back on his feet.”

Aubrey hums noncommittally, “Your father thinks he'd make a good husband.”

Scoffing, Chloe glares at her friend. “My father thinks a lot of things about my future, yet he barely knows me. So excuse me if his opinion matters little to me.”

She sighs, finding solace from her frustrating thoughts in the gentle rockabilly beat pouring from the jukebox in the corner.

Chloe loves Fridays. Fridays mean hanging out at the local bar by the name of _Patty's_ by Barden University campus. It's an old establishment tucked on the side of the main road that has seen more sunrises than most students in this town.

The lights flicker or completely go out from time to time, the counter surface is splintered and the air thick and stenched with cigarette smoke, but Chloe wouldn't change it for the world.

Each Friday night, the beat-up and worn-out bar comes back to life. It soars from the laughter and smiles of the carefree patrons enjoying a drink or two, from the hundreds of conversation competing with the rock music.

It's a sacred place, one of escape from the tension of uptight family expectations and paternal speeches about how those young people should live their lives.

On Fridays, they tuck their worries away and twist their bodies and limbs to the beat of rock-n-roll, the rebellious dance of the youth.

“Sorry.” Aubrey murmurs, interrupting Chloe's musings as she lays a comforting hand over hers. “I didn't mean to upset you.”

Chloe is about to reply, to let her know it's okay, when movement in her periphery catches her attention.

A group of six people strode in while Chloe was daydreaming. Three boys and three girls, about she and Aubrey's age, perhaps younger. Chloe has never seen them at _Patty's_ before, or even in town.

“Well, well, would you look at what the cat dragged in,” Aubrey drawls out, leaning back against the counter.

“Who are they?” Chloe wonders, observing the group boasting about as though they owned the place.

What she really wants to ask is, who is _she_ , when she finds herself unable to blink away from the petite brunette standing in the middle.

Chloe lets her eyes run over the worn-out leather jacket slightly too big on her shoulders, her cotton white tee, Levi's jeans and black Chuck Taylor's tops.

Her first thought is that the girl comes across as confident, like she belongs here.

When her gaze slides back up to her face, it meets steel blue eyes. Looking away, Chloe instinctively smooths down her red polka-dot dress and neatly tucks a runaway curl behind her ear.

She doesn't have to look at Aubrey to know her friend is rolling her eyes.

“They call themselves the _Treblemakers_. I met them once at a meet-up in Atlanta last year,” the blonde explains with a sneer. “The two in the middle are the leaders; Beca Mitchell and Jesse Swanson. Then there's Stacie, the tall, leggy brunette and Emily, the baby-face. Benji, the curly-haired one, and Donald, with the glasses are the two hanging back.”

Chloe hums in acknowledgment. “What are they doing here?”

“I don't know. It's not their usual turf.”

Chloe finally breaks out of her daze, giggling when she catches a look at Aubrey and the way the muscle in her jaw twitches. “Unclench, Bree.”

Aubrey tears her eyes away from the group now standing at the opposite end of the bar, and visibly relaxes. “I just don't like them.”

“Well it's a good thing you don't have to talk to them,” she tells her friend with a smile, raising her glass to take a sip.

Both girls fall back into easy conversation, nursing their drinks and flirting with boys here and there, when the soft country song playing on the jukebox switches to the unmistakable opening strums of a rock-n-roll piece.

The loud chatter at the bar abruptly ceases, most patrons moving to stand in a large circle around the make-shift dance floor in the middle of the room to watch the first contestant.

It's ten o'clock. Like every Friday night at ten, the infamous dancing contest starts. Everybody in Barden and its surroundings knows about it. There's no prize; the prestige of being _Patty's_ best lindy hopper of the week is better than any trophy.

Aubrey's voice sounds farther and farther away as Chloe observes the Treble leader. She's tossed her jacket away, leaving her in her form-fitting shirt and is rolling her shoulders back as she waits for her turn. Her dark hair is now pulled up, kept out of her face with a red bandanna.

The song playing on the jukebox switches to Little Richard's throaty opening words to _Long Tall Sally._ Chloe stares, as Beca gathers everyone's attention, striding confidently around the circle into a fast walk, fingers snapping along to the rhythm.

Her fellow Trebles hoot and holler as she spins into the center and slides into a side step, followed by a smooth triple step and kick ball change that gets the crowd buzzing in excitement.

Chloe stands there -mesmerized, far gone, over her head-, eyes switching back and forth between Beca's quick and flawless footwork, the beads of sweat trickling down her neck to disappear into her dampening white shirt and the smug expression etched in her features.

Chloe has never seen anyone move so ardently before, as though music dictated their soul.

“Chloe?”

Blinking, Chloe realizes Beca is no longer the one dancing. The song changed during her black-out and someone else is dancing in the spot Beca occupied a minute ago.

“Yes?” She eventually manages, rolling her head towards her friend. Aubrey's eyebrow is furrowed in concern and slight question.

“Are you okay? You look flushed.”

Only then does Chloe register how fast her heart is thudding against her ribs. She nods, clearing her throat. “Yes, I'm fine. I'm just... going to get some air.”

The cool air she is met with as soon as she steps outside tugs her body temperature down a notch. She pauses and lets her head hang back, taking a moment to observe the stars making their way into the dusky sky.

“Beautiful night, huh?”

The breathy voice catches both her attention and her heart. Twisting her head over her shoulder, Chloe should be surprised, but really isn't, to find the girl previously occupying her thoughts.

Leaned casually against the wall with her foot propped up on the brick, Beca lifts her hand to her mouth and takes a drag from her cigarette, blowing the smoke out the corner of her lips. Her jacket is back over her shoulders, hiding her small frame under its thick and tough leather.

“Yes, it is.” Chloe turns on her heels, keeping her hands folded in front of her. She tilts her head to the side. “I've never seen you around here before.”

The brunette flicks her cigarette. “That's 'cause 'm not from around here, Red.”

Chloe's eyebrows fly to her hairline over the nickname. The other girl seems to note her surprise but doesn't say anything.

“What brings you to Barden, then?”

“A change of scenery,” she offers, blowing a cloud of smoke towards the sky, this time. It swirls into the haziness of the atmosphere and vanishes into the night. Chloe steps closer without really registering it, as if an invisible line was tugging on her waist, drawing her into Beca's orbit. “I was told this place lives for rock-n-roll and that all the pretty girls from town like to come here on Friday nights.”

Humming, Chloe stops a safe distance from Beca. The faint light above the entrance of the diner allows her to study Beca's features, nonchalant with a sprinkle of mischievous dancing in her eyes.

“And do you shamelessly hit on each of these girls like you're doing now?”

“Shamelessly?” She echoes, eyebrow arching. “If you want to put it that way. I indeed find no shame in appreciating beauty when I see it before my very own eyes.”

Chloe feels her cheeks warm up as Beca's eyes slide down her body and back up to meet hers with a suggestive look. Her smirk cranks Chloe's body temperature back up a couple hundred degrees as Chloe tries to reign in her thundering heart.

Before words can reach her tongue, Beca is speaking once more.

“And I think I might just stick around longer than planned,” she husks out, hand hiking up to her mouth. She wraps her lips around her cigarette and takes a long drag as Chloe watches the action unfold, hypnotized by the burning orange glow consuming the stick of tobacco.

Much in the same way Beca's midnight blues are slowly burning through Chloe's skin.

Without warning, the door flies open, banging loudly against the wall and cutting through the thick silence. Chloe startles from the harsh interruption, eyes flickering to the source of noise.

A group of people spill out, laughing loudly and shoving each other, and upon closer observation, Chloe recognizes Beca's friends.

A set of keys is tossed in Beca's direction, who easily catches it with both hands while her fellow Trebles pile up inside the cherry red _Chevrolet Impala_ parked by the curb.

“Mitchell, quit flirting and get in here!”

“Gotta split, Red,” Chloe's eyes follow Beca as she walks backwards in the direction of the car, winking at Chloe as she goes, “See you around, I _hope_.”

Chloe nods faintly, a cold chill running up the length of her spine the second Beca's attention is no longer on her.

Beca jumps over the car door to gracefully land into the driver seat. The Chevy burns rubber seconds later, the rocky tune booming through its speakers growing fainter and fainter as it disappears around the bend.

/

Chloe hates the effect this Beca girl has on her after a mere conversation.

She hates how Beca is the last thing she thinks about when she goes to sleep that night, and the first when she wakes up on Saturday morning.

Hates the way her mind slams back to Beca's perfect moves every time she hears a rock song on the radio.

Hates how her eyes perpetually skim over the traffic in hopes of catching sight of a red Impala in the distance.

Hates how the Treble even managed to make her way into her subconscious, becoming the subject of her dreams.

She hates it, yet every fiber of her being is humming at the prospect of seeing Beca again.

/

It just happens to the following Friday, at _Patty's._ Chloe was set on having a good time, but Tom has been glued to her side since she got here and she is quickly running out of excuses to refuse him a dance.

Besides, she does want to dance and all the other boys are taken, so maybe he'll just have to do for now.

“Hey, Red,”

Chloe feels her blood turn to scorching hot over the two syllables. She whips her head to the side, immediately drowning in those dark, charming blues.

Beca is leaning against the counter, trademark smirk in place, signature leather on her shoulders.

“Hi,” she replies quietly, swallowing the sudden dryness in her mouth as Beca approaches to stand in front of her, seemingly not giving a spare thought about Tom.

“You wanna dance?” Beca asks, then tilts her head towards the jukebox. It's a slow tune. “Well, to something a little bit more...” she leans in to whisper the rest against the shell of Chloe's ear, dragging a shiver out of her. “...daring.”

Without really having to think twice, Chloe nods, stifling a laugh at the look of disbelief crossing Tom's face. He looks so ticked off she thinks his perfectly slicked hair might stand on the ends.

Beca jerks her chin towards the jukebox, coaxing Chloe into following her to the machine. Fishing for something into her pocket, she then drops it into Chloe's palm. Chloe glances down to find a coin.

“You choose the song.”

It's easy; Chloe has danced to this jukebox song selection for several years now, she doesn't have to think too much.

She slides the coin into the slot and presses the button, closing her eyes in delight as the first series of hand claps thud into her ears, followed by the deep hums of Thurston Harris.

She shares a soft smile with Beca, who, if she looks surprised by Chloe's song choice, doesn't voice any objection.

Beca's hand is slipping into hers and tugging her towards the space already occupied by a dozen people.

Letting her go, Beca takes a few steps backwards, shrugging off her jacket and tossing it to a nearby chair. Their eyes meet again, and both girls start stepping to the rhythm towards one another, giving a kick outwards every three steps until a mere feet separates them.

The moment Beca's hand finds her hip and Chloe's sets on Beca's shoulder, the music picks up, and so do their moves. Chloe is suddenly twirling for a beat, and back in Beca's arms, hips swaying in sync the following one.

“ _Little bitty pretty one,”_ Chloe realizes Beca is mouthing along to the lyrics pouring out of the jukebox. It makes a shiver hike up her spin. _“Come on and talk-a to me.”_

Her breathing is starting to become erratic at the high tempo imposed by her dance partner, but that little discomfort is buried under the adrenaline pumping into her veins.

It feels as though she and Beca have been dancing together for years and not one short minute.

As though they were destined to find each other at some point, because, judging from the sensation flooding her entire body and the look of awe from the circle of people having formed around them, Chloe knows they're _good_.

Every fiber in her being feels electrified through the unwavering bond she has with Beca, through their hands or their hips, or their eyes.

As the song reaches its peak, Chloe briefly registers that they are now the only ones dancing; that the other pairs have stopped in favor of watching them. It triggers another surge of exhilarating energy seeping through her limbs, which grow restless and nearly move on their own along to the beat.

Eventually, and to Chloe's dismay, the song draws to its end. Beca is holding her against her body, so close that Chloe can feel puffs of air across her skin as Beca pants against her throat. The tinkling sensation has goosebumps ripple along her neck as she tries to get her own breathing under control.

Beca reaches up to push a strand of hair from Chloe's glistening forehead, and smiles. “Ready to go again?”

Chloe nods; she feels like she could go on until the sun rises.

Smile broadening into a grin at her response, Beca gently squeezes Chloe's waist before peeling herself away as the first few notes of the next song reach her ears.

Chloe's eyes widen when Jerry Lee Lewis' _Great Balls of Fire_ takes over the room. Its beat is faster than the previous song by a mile, and she's afraid she won't be able to keep up with Beca's skilled footwork.

But Beca is looking at her with those eyes, projecting a confident aura that leaves no room for apprehension, and Chloe takes a deep, composing breath, bunching up some of her skirt fabric to give her legs more room as they kick into gear.

She soon feels dizzy, both from the twirling and the cheering erupting around them, so she locks onto Beca's eyes and doesn't let go, lest she loses her footing.

Beca's eyes, which reflect her smile every time she dances, Chloe has noticed. As though rock-n-roll brings her to such a state of happiness that it seeps through her usually more casual persona.

It makes Chloe smile, too, and a cloud of warmth float in her stomach. Chloe squeals when the song draws to an end. Before she can register what she's doing, her arms are around Beca's shoulders and she's laughing into her neck.

“That was amazing!”

Beca is staring at her with an expression of fondness that makes her slightly falter. She casts her eyes down to Chloe's lips and Chloe feels more than hears herself gasp when Beca starts to lean in.

She stops just as Chloe feels her breath against her own mouth. It makes hers hitch.

Beca glances at her and winks. “Thanks for rocking my evening, Red.”

She squeezes Chloe's waist, then disappears into the crowd towards the exit.

/

It becomes a thing.

Every Friday night, Beca and her gang show up at _Patty's_.

Every Friday night, she asks Chloe for a dance.

Every Friday night, Chloe says yes.

Every Friday night, Chloe's head spins. From the music, from Beca's smile, from the feelings erupting inside her chest every time Beca's hands grip her hips.

Every Friday night, it's just a dance.

Until it becomes something more.

“What are you playing at, Chloe?”

Chloe recoils from both the harsh tone and the accusation. The midnight air is already cold enough to have to suffer through this.

“I don't know what you're talking about, Tom.”

“Oh, come on,” he scoffs, letting his head hang back. Swiveling, he points an accusatory finger in her face. “You're making me look like a fool, in front of everyone!”

“A _fool_?” she shouts back, the sudden anger bubbling up inside her chest too great to be leashed. “What does you acting like a fool have anything to do with _me!_?”

“We're supposed to be together!” he cries out dramatically, stepping closer. Chloe takes one back, body meeting the wall behind her. “Instead you're flirting with that... with that... girl!”

It's Chloe's turn to laugh humorlessly. “I'm not doing such thing. You're clearly paranoid, all Beca and I do is dance.”

“Dance,” he echoes skeptically. “Right.”

He pauses, pursing his lips as he runs a hand through his greasy hair.

“Your father wants me to propose to you, you know.”

Chloe's jaw clenches at the mention of her father. “Yeah, well, he wants a lot of things for me. Not always the right ones.”

 _Never_ the right ones, she wants to amend, but stops herself because it's not the point.

Tom lies his hand over the brick, leaning closer. Chloe crosses her arms over her chest as she stares back defiantly. “You'll realize someday you've made a mistake, you know. Rejecting me.”

“I'm sure I won't,” she sneers back, her usual big, blue eyes reduced to a cold squint. She doesn't want to look at him or talk to him anymore. She's simply tired of their repetitive, monotonous dance. She pushes at his chest but he doesn't budge. “Back off, Tom. I wanna go back inside.”

“Hey!” Both heads turn towards the source of noise. The very reason of their fight is storming over, fists clenched by her side. “Leave her alone,”

“Beat it, milksop,” Tom mutters, following it up with a jerk of the head in general direction of the parking lot. “You don't want to get involved.”

“ _You_ split, dunderhead.”

While Chloe doesn't know Beca that well, she knows Tom isn't a violent person. A glaring match between the two ensues, before Tom sighs, letting his head hang low and his shoulders drop as he pulls away from Chloe.

“I'll see you around, Chloe.”

Chloe waits until his steps are faint enough to indicate he's out of earshot before cutting her gaze towards Beca, eyes softening when they meet concerned ones.

“You didn't have to do that.”

Beca shrugs and steps forward, without getting overly too close. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Chloe attests with a nod, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. She runs a hand over her yellow, flower-patterned dress and pushes off the wall. “I think I'm going to head home.”

“Can I-” Beca interrupts herself and clears her throat, seemingly unsure. “Do you want a ride?”

“Um,” Chloe's eyes flit back and forth from Beca to her Chevy parked by the curb. Beca's expression is soft and genuine, sweeping away Chloe's slight apprehension about getting into a car with a next-to stranger. “Okay.”

Flushing when Beca opens the door for her, Chloe slides into the leather seat and tries to tame down her nerves while Beca rounds the hood to get behind the wheel. It's almost as big as her, and Chloe has to stifle a laugh.

“Is it okay if you don't drive me home just yet?” she asks timidly, hands fumbling in her lap as Beca pulls away from the curb. Beca's eyes meet her briefly, surprised. “Take me someplace you like.”

She wants to spend time with Beca, outside of _Patty's,_ without really being able to pinpoint why exactly.

Maybe it's because Beca is different from all the girls she's met before. Maybe it's because she feels strange things whenever she's around her.

Good strange things.

Beca nods, shooting her a smirk. “Alright, Red.”

Smiling, Chloe reaches out to crank up the volume of the radio. As Elvis Presley's _Stuck on You_ fills the car, Chloe starts humming under her breath, mind drifting out the window to the invisible shapes her hand is waving through the air.

Up a steep gravel road, the car comes to a stop. Chloe blinks, taken aback by the view over the town of Barden, its vibrant lights matching the stars in the sky.

They step out of the car and settle down on the hood.

“I've never been here before,” Chloe whispers in awe, eyes dancing over the canvas.

“It's my favorite place in Barden,” Beca states, the rhythm of her fingers over the metal matching the music drifting out from the open windows of the car.

 _The Crew Cuts' Sh Boom Sh Boom,_ Chloe notes. A stretch of silence follows, filled with stolen glances and awkward smiles.

“Chloe.”

Chloe twists her head to the side to find Beca staring straight ahead. “Mmm?”

“No, I – I just realized I didn't know your name until Dunderhead said it.”

Chloe snickers at the nickname. “He's not that bad.”

A doubtful hum flits through Beca's lips. “Your boyfriend shouldn't talk to you like that.”

“He's not my boyfriend either,” Chloe clarifies quickly. “I don't have a boyfriend, nor do I want one.”

Beca looks at her. “Why's that?”

Chloe shrugs. “I don't want to go on three dates and then get engaged to be married, all of that before I'm even twenty-two. My mother is already planning my wedding.”

Beca's gaze is burning through her skin as she stares at her, curiosity painted across her features.

“What do you want to do then, Chloe?”

“I just want to have fun,” she replies easily, a grin tugging at her lips. “Travel. Dance to rock-n-roll.”

Things her parents are against. If she listened to them, she would stay inside the house all day, taking cooking and sewing lessons, or how Chloe calls it, learning to be a proper wife.

The mere thought of it makes her skin crawl unpleasantly.

“Travel? Where would you go if you could go anywhere?”

Tilting her head to the side, Chloe observes her impromptu stargazing companion. “You sure ask a lot of questions, Beca.”

If Beca looks thrown-off by Chloe's knowledge of her name, she doesn't say anything.

“Sorry, you don't – you don't have to answer those.”

For the first time since she's met Beca that night a few months ago, Chloe sees the confident mask slip away, unveiling Beca's surfacing nerves.

Out of impulse, she reaches over to cover Beca's hand resting between their bodies. Beca tenses a little bit, then relaxes and turns her hand so that her palm is up, wrapping her fingers around Chloe's.

Chloe attempts not to look too unsettled by the sudden butterflies flapping away in her belly.

“I'm just teasing, Beca,” she offers lightly, then purses her lips in thought. “If I could go anywhere in the world, I'd go to Argentina, I think.”

“Argentina?” Beca cocks an amused eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I've always wanted to learn to tango. It's so elegant and sensual.” At that, Beca smiles. “But that's a fantasy that probably belongs to another life.”

Beca remains silence, so Chloe asks, “What about you? Where would you want to go?”

“Nowhere, really. I like where I am right now.”

Chloe doesn't know if she means in Barden or in this very moment, enjoying the view over that very place with Chloe.

Color tints her cheeks. She's almost certain it's the second one, especially when Beca gives her that lopsided smile and squeezes her fingers.

“I live for music and dancing. Now that I've found an amazing dance partner, I don't see why I'd want to go anywhere else.”

Or maybe a little bit of both.

The light blush morphs into a deep crimson as Chloe dips her head down, away from Beca's bewitching gaze. Beca is the outstanding dancer out of the two, there's no doubt about it. She's not only a great dancer, though, she is the best partner Chloe has ever had.

The way she moves so confidently with that glint in her eye makes Chloe feel as though she herself can keep up with any beat, any tune, for however long it is.

A gush of wind cuts through Chloe's musings and draws a shiver out of her. Letting for of her hand, Beca shrugs off her jacket and lies it over Chloe's shoulders.

She gives Beca a bashful smile and tugs the leather tighter around her.

“Thank you.”

Beca smirks, eyes twinkling in the semi-darkness. “No sweat, Red.”

/

“That's me,” Chloe indicates, pointing toward the white house at the end of the street. Beca nods and slows down to a stop, Chloe twisting in her seat to face her. “Thanks for tonight. I liked it.”

“Me too,” Beca replies, meeting her eyes.

Teeth raking over her bottom lip, Chloe stops with her hand on the car handle. She realizes she still has Beca's jacket around her frame and shuffles to take it off.

“Keep it,” Beca tells her, brushing a hand over her arm to stop her movements. Chloe pauses, orbs sliding up to find smiling midnight blues. “Looks boss on you.”

Chloe shakes her head, eyes widening slightly. “No, I couldn't – “

“If you keep it, that means I'll get to see you again.”

Beca shoots her a wink that Chloe feels all the way down to her toes. Recovering somewhat quickly, she scoots forward, leaning across the console to press a quick kiss to Beca's cheek.

“I don't need an excuse to want to see you again,” she murmurs, pulling back to watch her words wash over Beca. Beca lowers her head, strands of dark hair hiding the intensifying flush in her cheeks. “I'll see you around, Treble Beca.”

Beca clears her throat and manages a shaky, “See ya, Red.”

With one glance over her shoulder, Chloe opens the car door and slides out of the car, a spring in her step as she hikes up the driveway.

/

“Do you want to go over our notes now?”

Chloe hums absentmindedly as she falls into step with Aubrey at the end of class.

“Chloe?”

Chloe snaps her gaze to her friend. “What?”

Aubrey laughs, raising an eyebrow. “What's got you so distracted?”

“No one,” Wincing the second the words leave her mouth, she trips over the next ones. “I mean, nothing!”

Aubrey simply laughs, but to Chloe's relief, doesn't prod any further.

As they step out of the building, Chloe's eyes immediately catch the cherry red Chevy parked a hundred yards away, its owner and the object of her distraction casually leaning against the passenger door.

She clutches her books harder against her chest, lest her heart decided to jump out.

Following her line of sight, Aubrey frowns. “What's she doing here?”

“I, I don't know,” Chloe replies as nonchalantly as she can.

Aubrey narrows her eyes in suspicion. “Then why are you fixing your hair?”

“What?” Chloe freezes, letting her hand drop down to her side. She didn't even notice. Registering Aubrey's unimpressed look, she clears her throat in slight embarrassment.

“She's here to see you,” Aubrey states matter-of-factly. She smiles then, and Chloe feels her worries vanish into the spring air. “I guess we can go over notes another day.”

Chloe nods, stopping to face her friend. “Thanks Bree.”

After giving Aubrey a quick hug, Chloe waits until the blonde has disappeared around the corner of the building to resume walking, in Beca's direction, this time.

“Hi,” She calls out, giving Beca a small wave that is received with a lopsided smile.

“Hey, Red.”

Chloe's stomach does weird things over the nickname.

“What brings you here?”

“I was, uh, I was wondering if –“ Beca pauses, rubbing the back of her neck. “If, um, I could buy you a milkshake?”

Chloe tries to keep herself from bouncing on the balls of her feet in giddiness. She channels it into a wide smile, instead. “I'd like that.”

Beca mirrors it, hers perhaps more reserved, and pushes off the side of her car to join Chloe on the sidewalk. Over the journey to the café, Chloe tells Beca about the classes she had that day.

They settle down at a booth by the window, Chloe waving at the waitress, her friend Jessica, when she looks over at the pair.

“Hey Chlo,” she calls out happily, offering Beca a more timid smile in silent greeting. “Strawberry milkshake?”

“Yes, please,” Chloe beams; she's been ordering the same drink since she was little.

“And for you?” Jessica directs to Beca.

“Just the one milkshake, with two straws please.”

Chloe's eyes widen, while Jessica discreetly snickers as she pockets her notepad. “Coming right up.”

“Are you okay?” Beca prompts with a barely suppressed grin once Jessica has departed.

“Yes,” Chloe swallows. “I'm just surprised about the _one_ milkshake.”

“Oh. I just thought we could share it. My friend Jesse told me that's what people do on dates but he must have only seen that in flicks.” Beca's nose wrinkles up. “I'm sorry, I can ask for another –“

Chloe shakes her head to make sure it's screwed on straight. “Wha – I... _date?_ ”

“Nevermind. Forget about what I said.” Beca closes her eyes, letting a groan escape. “I'm not, uh, very good at this, at, uh, reading the signs.”

“Beca, it's okay,” Chloe laughs, reaching across the table to still Beca's agitated fingers. “I was just surprised. I'd be happy to share the one milkshake with you.”

Smiling when Beca visibly relaxes, Chloe retracts her hand just as Jessica comes back with their order.

“One milkshake, two straws,” she winks at Chloe, not so discreetly this time, and both she and Beca blush. “Enjoy, ladies.”

“So writing, huh?” Beca voices after a stretch of silence over which Chloe leaned forward to take a sip of the sweet, creamy beverage.

“Yeah. I want to become a journalist. I know it's unlikely that I'll make a career out of it, since few women do. I plan on moving to New York after I graduate. My father thinks it's just a stupid dream and would like me to settle down here in Barden.”

Beca frowns. “It's not stupid if you believe that dream is what might make you happy.”

“I think it would.”

“Then you should pursue it and not let anybody get in its way.”

Chloe hums, casting her eyes down, away from Beca's compelling ones before she melts.

Time seems to fly as they trade light subjects of conversation, taking their turns with the milkshake, until they both lean at the same time, and both back-up after an awkward second spent looking at each other's lips.

“Sorry,”

They both utter at the same time, too, and share a bashful smile. Beca pushes the glass towards Chloe.

“You finish it, I'll go pay.”

Chloe nods, watching Beca walk away towards the counter. She's glad for the little time alone, for she needs a moment to compose herself. Being with Beca does things to both her mind and her body that she has never experienced with anyone else before.

“Can I walk you home?”

“Oh, you don't have to,” Chloe says as she gets to her feet, sliding her books along the table to grasp them and clutch them to her chest.

To her surprise, night fell over the town of Barden without her noticing.

“I know, I just want to,” Beca replies with a lopsided grin. Grimacing, she adds, “If-if that's okay, of course.”

“Sure.” Chloe replies, holding back an amused laugh. It's endearing how Beca seems to get nervous over little things.

During the ten-minute walk from the diner to her parents' house, Chloe learns that Beca's favorite color is blue, that she doesn't like flicks and that she lives in a big house just outside of town with the other Treblemakers.

“Why do you call yourselves Treblemakers?”

Chloe asks, then sighs in slight disappointment when they turn into her street, meaning their time together is drawing to an end.

“We're all outcast in our own ways,” Beca replies, eyes fastened to the pavement. “We're not criminals or anything. We just have different beliefs and want to fight for them. According to our respective families, we were only causing trouble, so we all left.”

Chloe can indeed feel the trouble Beca is stirring up in her heart and feels like the name fits her.

“And we needed a name when we started making music. We thought Treble was a nice pun for trouble.”

Chloe's eyes grow wider. “You guys are musicians?”

“If you want to call it that. We have a few gigs once in a while, but it pretty much stops there. We're more famous in the area for the rock-n-roll battles and meet-ups.”

“Do you attend a lot of those?”

“Frequently, yes. Or basement parties. I just have to dance, y'know?”

“Yeah,” Chloe agrees, catching Beca's eyes and holding her gaze for a few seconds. She's been on the front line watching Beca dance; she's noticed how her soul ignites whenever she does get to dance.

Chloe stops when they get to her driveway and is wracking her brain for any reason she could come up with to see Beca again, soon. Beca beats her to the punch.

“Would you, um, would you like to go to the Atlanta fair with me this coming Saturday?”

Chloe's lips curve into a smile. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yes?” Clearing her throat, Beca shuffles her weight back and forth, jamming her hands into her pockets. Chloe finds the whole thing adorable. “I mean officially, this time.”

Chloe chuckles and leans in, brushing her lips across Beca's cheekbone in a feather light kiss.

“I'll see you on Saturday, Beca,” she tells her when she pulls away, rubbing her lips together. “Pick me up at four o'clock?”

“Y-yeah. I mean yes, I'll be there at four. On Saturday. Sharp.”

Giggling, Chloe gives Beca a quick wave before she turns around and starts heading up her driveway, already thinking about what dress she'll choose for their date.

Maybe something blue.

/

Come Saturday afternoon, Chloe finds herself on her porch, hands fumbling behind her back, the nerves having gotten to her.

She hears Beca's car before she sees it, the unmistakable sound of a rockabilly tune speeding down the street. The red Chevy slows down to a stop and Beca steps out of the car just as Chloe walks down her driveway.

“Hi,”

Upon setting her eyes on Chloe, Beca remains silent a tad too long, and Chloe starts to feel self-conscious about her dress, a stripy blend of different blues she chose with Aubrey's help earlier this week. Seemingly shaking herself out of her daze, Beca grins.

“You look very nice, Chloe. Blue suits you.”

Chloe lets out a subtle puff of air. “Thank you, Beca. You look nice, too.”

She's wearing her usual simple tee, a red one this time, dark Levi's and worn-out Chuck's. Her hair is pinned back on one side, gathered on her opposite shoulder.

Beca blinks and clears her throat, fumbling for a few seconds to open door. She gestures towards the inside of the car in a goofy manner, eyes fleeting. “Uh, after you.”

Chloe smiles and utters a quiet _thank you_ , climbing it and gathering the hem of her dress in her hand before Beca gently shuts the door and rounds the car.

“I wish I could have shown up to the door with a bouquet but I didn't know if your, um, parents were in or not,” Beca reaches across the dashboard and hands her a single white rose. “A lady should get a flower on a date.”

Chloe shakes her head in awe, taking the rose between her fingers and inhaling its fresh scent. As Beca pulls away from the curve, Chloe slides her hand into hers, loosely intertwining their fingers.

When they reach Atlanta, Chloe gasps, mesmerized by the size of the fair; it's much bigger than what she had pictured in her head.

Every sense awakens the minute they step past the arch.

So many colors are flashing from every corner that Chloe's eyes don't know what to focus on first. Faint music echoes throughout the maze of stalls, happy shrieks from the star roller coaster cutting through the tunes every so often.

The scent of sugary-sweet candy swirls in the air, bringing Chloe's mind back to when she was a child and the circus was in town.

Children are zipping past them, their excitement palpable as they gleefully skip from one stall to another, tickets bunched in their fists, unable to decide where they want to go first.

Over the late afternoon, she and Beca try their hand at all sort of entertainments, from the slot machines, to the bumper cars, to the can knockdown, where Beca spends more than twenty dollars attempting to win a plush animal for Chloe, which in the end is probably worth less than that.

“I know,” Beca says when Chloe tells her just that as they leave the stand. “But it wouldn't be as romantic to just buy it for you in a store, now, would it?”

Heart fluttering inside her chest at the thoughtfulness of her date, Chloe clutches the blue teddy bear tighter against her and leans across the small distance between herself and Beca to kiss her cheek. Pulling away, she smiles brightly.

“Thank you,” Noticing her lipstick has left a mark on Beca's cheek, she reaches out to wipe it off.

“Um, no problem,” Beca mumbles, having a hard time to reign in the flush in her face. “Where to next?”

Despite the darkness falling around them, a kaleidoscope of lights exploded throughout the night, each ride brightening the horizon and dragging the party on for a few hours more.

Biting down on her bottom lip, Chloe points towards the heart of the fair. The ferris wheel stands proud in its bright and shiny glory at the edge of the fair, and Chloe feels giddy with excitement at the mere prospect of riding it.

She tangles her fingers with Beca's and tugs her along when Beca seems frozen in her spot, wary eyes locked on their next stop. As they stand in line, Beca's confident demeanor steadily slips away and Chloe laughs, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you scared of going on it?”

Beca's eyes widen comically. “No, no. I'm, uh, I'm not scared.”

She puffs out her chest a little bit and Chloe snickers at how ridiculous she's acting, as though she needed to come across tough for Chloe's sake, when Chloe has figured out by now Beca is anything but; she's soft and awkward and shy.

Chloe loves it, especially because it seems like she's the only one allowed to get a glimpse of that side of Beca.

Chloe tilts her head to the side, “We don't have to get on if you don't want to.”

“It's – it's fine.”

Beca still gulps when she realizes they are the next in line, but Chloe humors her and keeps her amusement at bay, until her resolve breaks a couple seconds later.

“You can hold my bear if you want to,” she offers sweetly, sprinkles of tease coloring her tone.

Rolling her eyes, Beca bumps her shoulder against Chloe's. “Shut up.”

As they sit in one of the passenger cars, Beca's eyes flick up to the top of the wheel above them anxiously. It starts with a jerk that has Beca's hand shoot out to seize Chloe's and Chloe manages not to let the giggle on the tip of her tongue escape this time.

“Ugh,” Beca grunts as they start their ascend towards the starry sky.

“Don't look down,” Chloe advises, squeezing Beca's fingers as their joined hands lies in her lap.

The higher they go, the whiter Beca's complexion turns, which has Chloe come to the conclusion that she needs to boost her distraction techniques; the soothing handhold won't suffice.

She reaches up, holding Beca's jaw gently to coax her into twisting her head towards her.

Swallowing her slight apprehension, Chloe leans in and brushes her lips across Beca's mouth, eyes slipping shut when Beca melts into the kiss after a beat of hesitation.

Her mother has always told her she shouldn't kiss boys before the fourth date, but Beca isn't a boy, so it doesn't count.

Beca's lips are soft and warm and taste of the cotton candy they shared minutes ago. Their lip-lock only lasts a few seconds, but it's enough to warm Chloe's belly with contentment.

“Thought you needed a distraction,” she explains when question flickers in Beca's eyes, though she's well aware it's just an excuse.

Having recovered from her slight shock, Beca smirks. “Only for distraction, huh?”

“Well,” Chloe shrugs sheepishly. “I also really wanted to kiss you.”

Beca hums and dips forward to press her lips to Chloe's shortly. They part when the ferris wheel comes to an abrupt stop, Beca gripping Chloe's hand tighter as her eyes flail about.

They are at the very top, graced with a breathtaking panoramic view over the fair. People on the ground look so small from where they are and the music has quieted down to faint hum.

The wind is a bit chillier this high up in the air, which prompts Beca into wrapping an arm around Chloe's shoulder, pulling her close when a shiver makes her upper body shake.

“Look up,” she whispers into Beca's ear, propping her chin onto her shoulder.

The sky is a painted canvas of sparkling stars, some hidden behind scattered clouds. The crescent moon stands high and proud, its intense silver contrasting with the darkness of the night sky.

Gaze no longer focused on the ground, Beca seems to relax, her fingers lazily running up and down Chloe's arm.

“It's beautiful,”

Chloe hums, nuzzling Beca's cheek before resting her head over her shoulder, an appeased sigh flitting through her lips.

She thinks this may be what happiness feels like, and she never wants the night to end.

/

To the world, they are just good friends who dance together to the beat of the jukebox every Friday night.

Behind closed doors and around their closest friends, she and Beca are a little more than that. After another few dates, a lot of fumbling and stuttering, Beca asked Chloe if she would be her girlfriend.

Chloe had laughed and nodded her head, a grin spreading on her face, so big that it threatened to split it into two.

It's fun, the sneaking around in public and the eagerness they both express to see each other again after a long day of pretending.

Over the next few months, Chloe spends most of her free time at the Trebles' house, located just outside of the town limits.

They live a life of debauchery in a mansion that is twice the size of Chloe's parents' house. Their days and nights revolve around music, dancing, reading, organizing marches for the civil rights movement in Georgia, and more music, as they lounge around the large living room.

A record player proudly stands on a sturdy piece of furniture near the doorway, bathing the cozy home in all sorts of tunes, depending on the mood or the time of day; blues, swing, rockabilly or rock-n-roll.

Sometimes, the old and worn-out contraption is given a moment's rest when Beca fiddles with her guitar, sitting sideways in the leather chair tucked in the corner, legs dangling off the side as she strums the chords.

Chloe likes it there. It quickly becomes her second home, a third escape from the stiffness of her parents' beliefs.

The Trebles have beliefs of their own, too and they fight for them ardently; for equal rights, freedom of speech and freedom of assembly.

Sometimes after a night out at _Patty's_ , Chloe sleeps over at their house, riding with them in Beca's Chevy, folded over someone's lap because the car barely fits six people, let alone seven.

To Chloe's shock, Aubrey is supportive of her unconventional relationship with a woman, maybe because Chloe has never been this happy, and it must show in her glow and constant spring in her step. When her mother asks, Chloe tells her she's spending the night at Aubrey's, her friend having volunteered to be her alibi from the start.

Beca's room isn't much: a single bed, a shelf that holds too many records for its size, and a cupboard that has probably seen too many decades. The light is poor and the walls are a moody gray. It smells of books and vinyl disks, which, according to Stacie, are two things Beca is addicted to, other than Chloe.

Chloe remembers the night Stacie blurted it out; how Beca can't seem to get enough of Chloe. It made Chloe ponder on it for a little while.

How Beca channels her affection for her through gentle touches that warm up Chloe's entire body, thoughtful intentions that make her heart flutter, lingering stares that make her blush and kisses that take her breath away.

And the dancing, oh the dancing. Chloe is pretty sure she doesn't want to dance with anyone else ever again.

She lives for the thrill rush that twirling around to rock-n-roll songs with Beca gives her, like liquid adrenaline being injected into her bloodstream.

What she loves the most, however, is much simpler; tucked away from onlookers' cheers and awestruck stares.

Swaying to a slow tune in Beca's arms in the intimacy of her bedroom, floorboards creaking under their bare feet, is Chloe's favorite type of dancing.

It's soft and loving, a blend of slow kisses, tender touches and affectionate looks that neither one dares to succumb to in public. It's during those moments that Beca opens herself to Chloe, allows Chloe to get glimpses of her fragile and raw soul.

Sometimes, Beca sings along to the lyrics pouring from her own record player, the most expensive item in her possession, after her beloved Chevy.

Her voice is beautiful; Chloe remembers being stuck in a state of awe the first time she heard it. It's smooth, yet vibrant, powerful yet calming. She could listen to it all day and all night long.

“ _I don't want to set the world on fire_ ,” Beca sings softly, forehead resting against Chloe's as they dance to the _Ink Spots_. The hand holding Chloe's face drift down to rest over her heart. “ _I just want to start a flame in your heart._ ”

Chloe's breathing hitches as she loses herself in the depth of Beca's eyes. They are full of love and affection, bathing Chloe's body in an aura of warmth.

The realization doesn't hit her like a truck; she felt it coming, leaving fingerprints on her heart as it slowly settled within her over the last few weeks.

It's in the little things; the way her heartbeat settles whenever Beca is in the room, the way Beca's touch anchors her down, or the way her heart soars in her chest whenever she gets to witness Beca's determination in fighting for what she believes in.

“I love you,” Chloe murmurs, leaning in to give Beca a gentle kiss as her fingers, previously dancing at the base of Beca's neck, sink into her dark hair. A weight vanishes from her shoulders the second the words are out in the open, because it feels right to say it, and she knows Beca feels the same way.

“I love you, too,” Beca echoes after a beat of stunned silence, arms drifting down to hold Chloe around the waist. “Like crazy, baby.”

Chloe squeals when Beca playfully dips her without warning at the end of the song.

Laughter bubbles up in Beca's chest, light, carefree and unrestrained; Chloe's new favorite sound in the world.

/

Throughout the summer, she and Aubrey spend most of their time with the Trebles, attending some of their gigs or tagging along to rock-n-roll parties.

They go on road-trips to places Chloe has never been before, like Charleston or Tallahassee, belting along to whatever song is playing on the radio.

“Elvis!” Chloe cries out in shock, twisting around to stare at Stacie in shock. “You talked to Elvis Presley? _The_ Elvis Presley?”

They're on their way home from a gig that took place the night before in Jacksonville, Florida. Beca is driving her faithful Chevy with the top down, the light breeze tangling in Chloe's red curls as she sits next to her girlfriend, feet propped up on the dashboard.

The rest of the Trebles, plus Aubrey, are following them down the highway in Jesse's car.

“She did a little bit more than talking, if you know what I mean,” Donald quips from the opposite end of the backseat. Sitting between he and Stacie, Emily flushes to a deep red upon the abrupt turn in conversation.

“Dude, we always know what you mean.” Beca groans from the driver's seat, rolling her eyes behind her aviator shades while Chloe giggles.

Donald is the flirt of the group; he manages to get any girl he wants. He's the male version of Stacie. Chloe heard they even keep a list of how many people they've danced with and that there's a bet going on within the group on who will end up with the highest number by the end of the year.

“We only flirted and kissed a little.”

Chloe gasps, eyebrows flying to her hairline. “Is he a good kisser?!”

Stacie sighs almost dreamily. “Oh, yeah.”

“I had a huge crush on him when I was a teenager.”

At that, the car swerves a little as Beca takes her eyes off the road to stare at Chloe in mild-surprise. “You did?”

“Big time. Started when _It's Alright Mama_ came out. He was so handsome.” Chloe giggles again. “Well, still is.”

“Preach,” Stacie praises, leaning forward. “I think every girl had a crush on him at some point.”

“Not me,” Beca grumbles, nose wrinkling up. “I don't see what's so attractive about him.”

Stacie chuckles. “Down, Beca. He's not going to steal your girl.”

The comment has Chloe glance at her girlfriend, whose hands are gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary.

“I know,” she breathes after a beat, tone a tad clipped.

Her hand slides up to rest on Chloe's bare thigh, just below the outline of her shorts, as though the King of Rock had somehow materialized in the backseat and Beca wanted to claim her territory.

“Oh, can we stop at the Savannah fair?!” Emily asks excitedly minutes later as they pass the Savannah welcome sign, shooting up from her seat.

A chorus of agreements follow from Stacie, Donald and Chloe while Beca groans.

“Guys, we still have to prepare for the rally next week. We have signs to make and I still have to prepare what I'm going to say.”

“Oh, don't be a spoil sport, Mitchell. We have plenty of time, we'll just bust our asses more than usual. Please?” Stacie pouts, then grins wickedly. “Besides, don't you want to win Chloe another one of those cheesy teddy bears?”

Jaw dropping open, Beca casts Chloe a sideways glare. “You told them?!”

The three other Trebles cackle from the backseat. Heat blossoms in Beca's cheeks.

“It slipped out?”

Beca hums doubtfully, and sighs, squeezing Chloe's leg lightly. “You're lucky I love you, Red.”

Chloe leans across her seat, draping an arm over Beca's shoulders.

“I love you, too.” She whispers into her ear, smiling at the _aw_ coming from Emily and ignoring the disgruntled sounds made by the other two. “Can we stop at the fair baby? I promise I'll help you write your speech when we get home.”

Beca huffs. “Fine.”

“Whipped,” Donald mutters, disguising it into a cough.

“Fuck off,” Beca growls out.

Laughing, Chloe plants a kiss on Beca's cheek as Beca slows down to make a right towards the fair grounds.

Elvis Presley's _It's Alright Mama_ follows the song that's just ended and Beca's hand shoots out to change the station.

“Fucking Elvis.”

/

“I thought I would find you here,” Chloe muses, letting the door shut behind her.

Beca lifts her gaze, giving Chloe that lopsided smile that makes her weak in the knees. Her limbs are still buzzing from their last dance, her mind fuzzy with dizziness from all the twirling and acrobatics.

Closing her lips around her cigarette, Beca gives it a long drag and exhales through her nose, her eyes following each of Chloe's movement as she comes to a stop in front of her.

“Have I told you how foxy you look yet tonight?” she rasps out, letting her eyes roam over Chloe's legs sticking out of her short skirt.

Own eyes flitting to their surroundings to make sure they are alone, Chloe lies a hand by Beca's head on the brick wall and leans in close enough that their lips are just inches away. “I don't believe you have.”

Beca tosses her cigarette into a puddle on the ground and rests her hands on Chloe's hips, “You look fucking incredible.”

A whimper flits through Chloe's lips and she closes the gap to kiss Beca hard on the mouth. Beca pushes off the wall to wrap her arms around Chloe's waist and pull her flush against her body as she tilts her head to deepen the kiss.

“I've been wanting to do this all night long,” Chloe whispers dazedly, tongue darting out to run across her own lips. Reaching out, she runs her thumb over Beca's bottom lip to wipe off a smudge of lipstick. “Watching you dance like that... does things to me.”

“What kind of things?"

The rasp in Beca's voice sends a spike of arousal down the length of Chloe's spine. She appreciates how slow they have been taking things, but her resolve is thinning with each passing minute.

“It warms my whole body from the tip of my toes to my mind, like a wave of heat I don't have control over. Hotter than any Georgian summer. Relentlessly beating over me like the mid-day sun. It makes me ache, ache for something more. Something more... intimate, that I've never tasted before, that seems off limits,” she pauses to take a breath, her eyes flitting down to Beca's lips. “Like-like a forbidden fruit.”

Sliding her gaze back up, Chloe observes the effect her words have on Beca. How her eyes seem to become hooded, turning darker than the night around them. Beca's lips part to accommodate her suddenly shallow breathing.

Chloe continues, more timidly this time, as the mere thought of it tints her cheek in both embarrassment and excitement.

“I want to take that step with you.”

Beca visibly gulps, her fingers flexing into Chloe's shirt. Instinctively, she licks her lips, her eyes dropping to Chloe's then back up. “You-you do?”

“If you do, too, that is.”

How it is possible, Chloe doesn't know, but she thinks Beca's eyes turn a notch darker. Beca grips Chloe's waist tighter, then lets go, as though fighting with her sudden desire.

“I do, I fucking do.”

The curse does things to Chloe's body that feel foreign.

She hums, kissing Beca gently to mark her following words. “Take me back to your place?”

Beca's eyes widen. “Yeah, yes. Okay.”

Chloe's confidence starts to considerably waver the second they step into the Trebles' quiet and empty house. The alcohol she has consumed over the stretch of the evening isn't enough to keep her nerves at bay, her stomach twisting in apprehension.

“We don't have to, you know,” Beca murmurs, breaking their kiss as they stand at the foot of the bed, their jackets already in heaps on the floor. “We can wait. I don't want you to take any step you're not ready for. I don't want you to have any regrets.”

Chloe's anxiety is knocked away by a stream of love skittering in her veins. She reaches up, cupping Beca's face. “The only regret I'll have is you not being my first. And I'm ready, I just...”

“Hey,” Beca whispers, squeezing her hip gently. “It's just me.”

“It's _especially_ you,” Chloe counters with a pointed look. “I-I know you've been with other women before and I'm afraid I won't – I won't know how to make you feel-feel... good.”

Flush blooms in Chloe's cheeks over the thread of sputtered words. The tender kiss placed upon her lips instantly calms her galloping heart.

“Unlike the few women I have been with, I love you. And that fact alone will make this moment more special than the ones I've experienced before. I promise.”

“Okay,” Chloe puffs out a breath. “Can we put on some music?”

Chuckling, Beca nods and lies a gentle kiss on Chloe's lips before peeling herself away to fiddle with the record player. Seconds later, Billie Holiday's _Blue Moon_ drifts through the room, and Chloe basks in its comforting melody.

“I love you,” Beca whispers some time later as she hovers above Chloe's naked body. “Do you trust me?”

Holding Beca's face loosely, Chloe tugs her down into a searing kiss that leaves them both chasing after air.

“Make love to me, Beca.”

Beca seems unsure all of the sudden, the slight tremor in her fingers as they brush along Chloe's skin proof of her surfacing nerves. Chloe kisses her again, locking eyes onto hers.

“I trust you.”

Beca's fingers start moving in an elegant dance along her body, first wrapping around her breast, then brushing over her nipple. A whimper escapes Chloe's parted lips, her back arching into the touch.

“God, you're so beautiful,” Beca husks out, dipping down to leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses down Chloe's neck and chest as her hand drifts lower to rest low on her stomach.

Beca is tender and patient, her touch hesitant but tangible, anchoring Chloe down before the sudden storm of new sensations knocking any ounce of rationality left in her body can sweep her away.

Something overwhelming and indescribable is building up in the pit of her stomach, something foreign, yet thrilling. It steadily grows, wrapping Chloe's mind in a fog.

“Baby,” she whimpers against Beca's lips, unable to kiss her back as she feels herself drift towards oblivion and unable to focus on anything but the spark enlightening her body. Her hips buck forward in pursuit for more, which Beca gives wholeheartedly.

Digging her nails into Beca's bare back, Chloe stumbles over the edge in a haze, Beca's name spilling from her lips. Beca is right there to catch her, whispering words of reassurance in her ear as wave after wave of pleasure roll off her body.

Her limbs feel numb with a pleasant tingling as Beca bathes her quivering body with lazy and delicate kisses.

/

“How do you feel about taking a trip to Memphis next year?” Beca asks her much later as they lie in bed, basking in a cocoon of warm bliss.

Chloe frowns; next year is five months away, and she doesn’t really get why Beca would want to go to Memphis out of all places.

Chloe sits up to be able to look at Beca properly, momentarily forgetting about how naked she is underneath the sheet. It pools to her waist and Beca's eyes immediately drop to her chest.

Flushing as red as her hair color, Chloe scrambles to drag it up to cover herself. Beca shuffles closer, cups the back of her neck and tugs her closer, their lips fusing into a bruising kiss.

“You have no idea how beautiful and sexy you are,” she whispers, nipping lightly at Chloe's bottom lip before pulling away completely, back resting against the headboard. She reaches out to lace her fingers with Chloe's. “And it was good for me, too. Amazing even, in case you still need convincing.”

Chloe's mind abruptly starts reeling with images of the past two hours, now fleeting before her eyes and only intensifying that blush.

The new step in their relationship opened up a new window in Chloe's life as she had never imagined being with someone could bring such pleasure and a near out-of-body experience. Said body tingles with a new sense of desire at the mere prospect of doing that again.

“Memphis?” she asks before she's tempted to pin Beca to the mattress and straddle her hips.

“The National Rock-n-Roll tournament is taking place in Memphis next year and I want to sign-up,” she clears her throat, eyes falling to their linked hands. “I want to sign _us_ up.”

“Us?” Chloe echoes uncertainly. “Na-national?”

Beca laughs at her stunned features and leans forward to press a kiss into her neck.

“Yeah. We're the bomb, baby,” she murmurs, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. “I don't know if it was only me but... that first night we danced? When I asked you because I saw you wanted to get away from Dunderhead? I... I never imagined we'd work so well. It was like we had been dancing together forever.”

Chloe shakes her head, not sure which information to assess first. “You asked me to dance to get me away from Tom?”

“That, and because I had wanted to dance with you since the moment our eyes met on that first Friday at _Patty's_. It was like... the rest of the room vanished when I caught a glimpse of those blues. I knew I had to do something to impress you. And the only way I know how to do that is through dancing.”

“You...” Chloe's mouth feels dried up, her tongue sticking to her palate. She remembers that night clearly, the way her body reached extreme temperatures from watching Beca dance to Little Richard. “That was for _me_?”

Beca nods timidly while Chloe grins. She moves to straddle Beca's thighs, not caring about the sheet slipping away once more; Beca has seen it all, already. Bending down, she captures Beca's lips in a long kiss.

“Well, you surely know how to make a girl's knees weak. Not just mine, but just about every girl in that diner, that night. Whatever their preferences are.”

Beca shrugs, her hands finding anchor on Chloe's hips, as though afraid she might move away.

“Well, I only had eyes for you. Then, and now.”

“Okay sweet talker,” Chloe manages with an eye-roll, attempting to ignore the pool of heat spreading in her stomach. “Tell me about your little project.”

Beca's hands leave her hips, and Chloe is about to whine at the loss of contact, but Beca runs them down her forearms to grip her own hands, waving their fingers together once more.

“You and me. Memphis, Tennessee. Showing everyone how it's done.”

Chloe hums, pursing her lips. “You're awfully confident. Can two women even enter?”

“I checked. The rules don't say anything about pair's gender. The only thing is...”

“Is?”

“The routine has to include a certain amount of acrobatics. And we've done some, but I know the only way we can win is with a somersault back flip.”

Chloe gulps, blinking twice in slow succession. “A somersault back flip?”

She knows what it is. She's seen at a few parties and has always found herself in awe at the audacity of the dancers that dared do it. It's one of the most technical and dangerous lindy hop lifts.

She trusts Beca with her life, but this move takes a lot of technique and physical strength.

“But you're... tiny.”

Chloe says it with the utmost seriousness, but her lips twitch in a barely suppressed smile at Beca's outraged expression the second the adjective leaves her mouth.

“Didn't stop me from twirling you over my shoulders many times,” Beca defends smugly. She lets go of Chloe's hand to hold her hips once more. “Doesn't stop me from doing this.”

Chloe squeals from the sudden flip in position. She's pinned into the mattress, Beca hovering above her as she braces her weight on both arms. Parting her legs to make room for Beca, Chloe ends up wrapping them around Beca's waist to lock her in place.

“What else?” she rasps out, eyes switching back and forth from Beca's to her kiss-swollen lips. Beca groans, elbows bucking as Chloe drags her lips along the edge of her jaw. “Show me.”

She doesn't care that it's past three in the morning and she's supposed to meet Aubrey at ten to finish up a paper. She doesn't care that she's going to have to spend a a good amount of time tomorrow covering up the few hickeys on her skin.

“Show me,” she repeats, rotating her hips gently when Beca seems frozen above her.

And Beca does. Many, many times.

/

“You remember our first date?” Chloe whispers one night, cuddled into Beca's side in the love seat.

It's a Friday night, but they both decided to stay in while the other Trebles and Aubrey went down to _Patty's_. Frank Sinatra's _Fly Me To The Moon_ is playing on the record player, its soothing rhythm making Chloe's body hum in delight.

“Which one?” Beca asks just as quietly, grinning into Chloe's hair.

“The unofficial one.”

“How could I forget about it? That milkshake was phenomenal.”

Delivering a light slap to Beca's arm, Chloe lifts her head to kiss her lightly.

“You remember what you said about dreams? I realized today while listening to Dr. King's speech that I don't know what your dream is.”

She was a the Trebles' house when the speech aired on the radio from Washington DC. It stunned everyone into silence for long minutes. Afterwards, Beca gave her own inspiring speech.

Chloe sat there, transfixed by the passion and determination driving Beca as she spoke in front of the dozen people present about her plans to walk into the trail blazed by Martin Luther King today and make sure this day is not forgotten.

Beca hums, taking a few seconds to reply. “My dream is to be able to walk down the street while holding your hand or kissing you whenever I want to, without constantly having to be scared of who might see us or the backlash that might follow.”

“Beca,” Chloe croaks out, any other words she might have learned throughout her life vanishing from her registry.

“My dream is that any person with differences, that it be their skin color, or their sexuality, or their disabilities gets to live their lives with the same freedom that any white man is granted with. I know it might not happen in my lifetime, but I want to fight for it anyway.”

Chloe remains silent, heart aching in her chest from the amount of love and admiration it holds for the woman next to her.

“The fight for civil rights is the most pressing matter, because unlike us, colored folks can't hide their true identity. They can't pretend they're not black, they can't hide that aspect about themselves even if they wanted to.”

Chloe pauses, guilt chasing away the warmth through its icy grip around her guts.

“I guess I've never thought about it that way, I've never... realized how privileged I am.”

“I'm not saying this to make you feel bad, baby,” Beca says softly, trailing her fingers up and down Chloe's arm. “I just... I find it appalling that people are treated like the scum of the earth just because they are not white.”

“I know,” Chloe states, lifting her head from Beca's chest. “I admire you for fighting so ardently for these people.”

Chloe tilts her head, eyes slipping shut as she melts into the kiss Beca presses against her lips.

_Fill my heart with song_

_Let me sing forever more_  
You are all I long for  
All I worship and I adore

 

 _In other words, please be true_  
In other words  
In other words, I love you

 

“I love you so much,”

Beca gives her that smile Chloe has noticed is only meant for her, the one that makes the corner of her eyes crinkle.

“I love you, too.”

/

Summer morphs into autumn.

The leaves on the trees turn to a beautiful orange shade that Beca likes to compare to Chloe's hair whenever they take strolls in the park, the back of their hands discreetly brushing every so often.

Winter is peaceful, marked by hot chocolate dates, slow dancing and lazy lie-ins where Beca likes to run her fingers through Chloe's hair as she reads an inspiring book.

When spring comes around, Beca and the Trebles are back to beating the pavement for equal rights, while Chloe focuses on acing her finals to graduate in a couple months all the while helping Beca reviewing her speeches.

“Chloe,”

“Mmm?” Chloe inquires, lifting her eyes from the speech she's been proofreading for Beca to find Aubrey's wide eyes staring at something past her. Frowning, she twists her head over her shoulder and gasps. “Beca!”

The right side of her girlfriend's face is red and swollen, and she's holding her injured right hand against her chest.

Scrambling up from the booth, Chloe rushes to her side, holding the uninjured side of her face. “What happened!?”

“Sit-in got out of hand,” Jesse explains from behind Beca while nursing his wrist.

“Oh my god,” tugging on Beca's good hand, Chloe leads her to the booth occupied by she and Aubrey. “Jessica, can I have some ice or something?”

“I'm fine, Red,” Beca assures her with a lopsided smile. “You should see the other guy.”

“This isn't funny, Beca,” Chloe snaps coldly, nonetheless sending Jessica a grateful smile when the blonde sets a bag of ice chips down on the table. She grasps it and presses it maybe a little bit too harshly on Beca's cheek, who recoils with a hiss.

“Dammit, Chlo, that fucking hurts.”

“It does? Good,” Chloe mumbles through clenched teeth, releasing a bit of the pressure out of pity. “You guys are so stupid. Going there when you knew the place would reek with members of the Klan.”

“We couldn't _not_ go,” Jesse quips from across the table where he's being attended to by Aubrey. “This statement was important. These _people_ are important. Dr. King is counting on us.”

“I know,” Chloe sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand. “But putting your lives on the line?”

“It was supposed to be a peaceful sit-in, Chlo,” Beca says quietly. “Those bastards attacked us, not the other way around.”

“I know, I'm sorry,” Chloe admits, gaze dropping to her lap. She realizes her free hand is shaking with anguish. “I just don't want you guys to end up killed.”

“I promise we're careful,” Beca murmurs, tenderly cupping Chloe's jaw, her thumb tracing her cheekbone. The diner being empty save for them and Jessica, Beca leans in to press a short, mending kiss to her lips. “Okay?”

Chloe lets her nagging worry dissipate, choosing to trust the unwavering confidence in Beca's eyes.

“Okay.”

A few days later, Beca and Jesse get an invitation to discuss their plan of action with Martin Luther King in Atlanta. Beca is a fidgeting mess the morning before they leave, and goes over all the things she wants to say when she meets the person she has admired for so many years.

Chloe listens to her with rapt attention, her heart soaring in her chest in unparalleled pride. Beca is destined to great things and Chloe couldn't be happier to watch it unfold.

/

“Chloe, honey!”

Chloe's face contorts in a grimace, hand freezing on the doorknob. Beca is supposed to take her out to dinner for their one-year anniversary, and she doesn't want to be late.

“Yes, mom?”

Her mother appears in the doorway of the kitchen when Chloe spins on her heels, providing her with the best smile she can muster.

“Oh, don't you look pretty,” her mother gushes as she approaches. She reaches out to tuck a stand of hair behind Chloe's ear and holds her chin affectionately. “Who is the lucky man that makes you pull out all the stops?”

Chloe beams. She sure hopes Beca likes her new outfit. And the things underneath.

“Um, someone I met at _Patty's_ a few weeks ago. It's our second date, actually.”

She feels a little bad about feeding her mother's hopes for the wedding she's been dreaming of since Chloe was born.

“Oh sweetie, that's wonderful! When do we get to meet him?”

Chloe swallows, tucking her hands behind her back. “I don't know, mom. It's still, uh, fairly recent.”

“Okay, well, you know how your father likes to meet them. It's a shame things didn't work out with that Tom boy. He seemed sweet.”

“Yeah...” Chloe gives her most convincing nod. “We just wanted different things.”

“I understand. Well,” she sighs, smoothing down her apron. “Don't stay up too late.”

“I'm, actually I'm staying at Aubrey's tonight, mom.”

Her mother frowns. “Again?”

Chloe briefly wonders how she and Beca managed to sneak around for a year without being caught, especially during those inebriated make-out sessions against the side-wall of _Patty's_.

“Yes, we need to go over notes and it'll be late before we're done. Besides, she lives right on campus.”

“Very well. Enjoy your date. Remember, a woman shouldn't kiss a man before the fourth date,” she concludes in a sing-song tone and Chloe nods, raking her teeth over her bottom lip to hold her smirk back.

“Yes, mom.”

If only she knew.

“We're playing with fire, Chlo,” Beca mumbles against Chloe's lips as she sits under her hours later, nothing but darkness surrounding them, save from the occasional headlights of cars zipping by.

While on the drive home, Beca pulled over when Chloe's hands started too wander a little too much for her to stay focused on the road.

“Yeah?” Chloe breathes out, raking her fingers through her hair to drag it away from her face as she leans in again, biting down on Beca's bottom lip. Beca's hips fuse into hers, drawing a moan out of both women. “Isn't risking getting burned a little exciting?”

Beca growls in approval and dips down to attach her lips to Chloe's pulse point as her hands slide over Chloe's ass and give it a generous squeeze.

“No hickeys!” Chloe hisses when Beca bites on her skin a little too harshly. She pulls away, keeping herself out of reach to glare at Beca playfully. “I told my mom I was going on a date and she told me a woman shouldn't kiss before the fourth date. Imagine her face if I come home with hickeys?”

Beca groans, dramatically letting her forehead drop into Chloe's chest. “Your mother would have a stroke if she learned about a quarter of the wild things you did in the last nine months.”

Snickering, Chloe makes quick work of Beca's jeans buttons and slips her hand inside.

“Yeah, well, what she doesn't know won't kill her.”

Beca whimpers, hips rocking into Chloe's fingers.

“Amen to that.”

/

Steps, step, twirl, lindy flip, slip-n-slide, around the world, splint and more twirling.

Chloe wonders which of her legs or her brain will give in first. Her shirt is sticking to her skin and her mouth is the driest it's ever felt despite the water-break they indulged in a few minutes ago.

But her heart, oh her heart. It's drumming in her chest with ecstasy, growing in size from the adrenaline pumping into her veins.

She never wants to stop.

“One more time,” Beca whispers breathlessly when the song draws to an end, surrendering to the temptation of a kiss before she pulls away to reposition the needle over the record.

“With the somersault,” Chloe adds decidedly. Pausing, Beca looks over her shoulder, eyes hesitant. “We have to try it at least once before Memphis.”

“Okay,” Beca nods, rubbing her fingers into her palms, then shaking her hands off to get rid of the nerves.

“Don't let me fall,” Chloe teases, own fingers curling into the lapels of Beca's shirt to tug her into a full kiss that leaves them even more breathless than they were to begin with.

“I won't, baby.”

Beca gives her a confident nod and reaches behind her to flip the needle down.

_You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain,_

_Too much love drives a man insane._

Steps, step, twirl, lindy flip, slip-n-slide, around the world, splint, cartwheel, back flip, twirl.

“Now,” Beca rasps out, holding Chloe against her, then releasing her with another twirl. Letting go of Beca's hand, Chloe steps backwards, kicking her foot out ever so often to the rhythm of the song.

Taking a deep breath, she waits for Beca to get into position, bent slightly forward, intertwined hands held out in front of her knees. Kicking into gear, Chloe picks up speed, flying up with a boost from Beca. Chloe tucks her legs into her chest, and twirls in a full rotation mid-air, landing gracefully into Beca's arms seconds later, the tip of her toes just reaching the ground.

“Beca!” She shrieks after a second of stunned silence, seizing Beca's arms and shaking her slightly in overwhelming excitement. “We did it!”

Beca laughs, pulling Chloe flush against her. “You're fucking boss, Red.”

Chloe kisses her soundly. “I don't want to dance with anybody else, ever.”

Beca's hands trail up her sides to cup her neck. “I don't want to _be_ with anybody else, ever.”

Mind still upside-down from the stunt, it takes a beat for Chloe to comprehend the heaviness of Beca's words. She pauses, mouth moving wordlessly as something pulls in her chest.

“Chloe,” Beca breathes out, the unparalleled love reflecting in her eyes threatening to make Chloe's already shaking legs disappear underneath her. “I don't have much to offer, not even a ring and probably much less than what you deserve but... I promise to love you with everything I have, to do everything in my power to help you make your dreams come true.”

Beca takes a pause when her voice wavers. Taking a deep breath she offers Chloe a trembling smile, steel blue eyes locking onto Chloe's watery ones.

“I know we can't get married officially. I can't ask you to become my wife, so will you be my forever instead?”

Chloe silently replays the question in her head several times. It's not the proposal she imagined as a kid, over a candle lit dinner at a fancy restaurant, a sparkling diamond ring staring back at her.

It's much better.

The twinkle in Beca's eyes as she stares at Chloe is a thousand times worth that diamond and the promise made more than the money in a loveless marriage with a rich man could ever fulfill.

Chloe chokes back a tearful laugh.

“Yes, I will,” she whispers against Beca's mouth, smiling into the heart-melting kiss. Beca's arms are back around her waist, lifting her up the ground a couple inches. “I love you, Treble Beca.”

“I love you too, Red.”

They stumble into Beca's bedroom minutes later, drunk in love and desire.

“Chloe,” Beca butts in between increasingly heated kisses.

“Yeah?”

“After you graduate,” she interrupts herself to catch a breath. “Still wanna go to New York to pursue your dream?”

“Depends, will you be there?”

Beca's arms tighten around her. She nuzzles Chloe's cheek. “We just said forever, baby. I think that means I wanna be with you everywhere.”

Chloe's chest is about to burst from a mixture of happiness and awe.

A laugh escapes, heavy with happy tears. “And I, with you.”

/

They win.

Chloe doesn't remember any of the performance.

She doesn't remember telling her feet where to step or her arms what to hold on to.

She remembers Beca's eyes, Beca's touch, and Beca's smile.

The rest is a tangled mess of twirling, sliding and flying through the air to Jerry Lee Lewis.

They are announced National Champions, and Beca's hold on her is the only tangible thing Chloe is able to anchor herself to.

“I told you,” Beca whispers into her ear sometime during their measureless embrace. The world around them falls away as Chloe sinks further into Beca's arms. Beca drops a quick, discreet kiss into Chloe's neck. “We're the bomb, baby.”

/

She graduates a few days later.

Beca is there, eyes sparkling with pride and it takes everything for Chloe not to leap off the stage and into her arms.

Beca gets a job with the NAACP and asks to be assigned at their regional office in New York. Chloe has a list of interviews with different newspapers over there.

It's a warm day on July third that they set off, intending to reach New York City in time for the fireworks of the Fourth of July. They spent the previous day celebrating the enactment of the Civil Rights Act by President Johnson, a milestone in Beca's and the Treble's fight for colored people's rights.

“We should get going, Chlo,” Beca says as she shuts the trunk.

Chloe nods, hugging Aubrey one last time. They promised to write to each other frequently and to call each other at least once a month. Waving at the Trebles all standing in line in front of the house to see them off, she rounds the car and slides in next to Beca.

Slipping her aviator shades onto her eyes, Beca gives Chloe that lopsided smile that made butterflies erupt in her belly all those months ago, on a chilly night outside of _Patty's_. Her thumb absent-mindedly runs over the ring nestled on her ring finger, a simple band Beca gave her a few weeks after proposing.

Chloe often goes through the motion to remind herself that this is all true; that she gets to spend the rest of her life with this amazing human being.

“Ready to chase your dream, Red?”

Chloe leans across the space between the seats to kiss Beca soundly. She ignores the hoots and hollers of the Trebles, laughing when Beca blindly flips them off.

Pulling away, Chloe rubs her nose against Beca's lovingly.

“Bring it on.”


End file.
